Zidler: Forgive the intrusion, cherub.
Satine: You're wasting your time Harold.
Zidler: Poppet, you don't understand. The Duke is going to kill Christian.
Satine: What? No...
Zidler: The Duke is insanely jealous. Unless you do his ending and sleep with him tomorrow night, the Duke will have Christian killed.
Satine: He can't scare us!
Zidler: He's a powerful man. You know he can do it. What are you doing?
Satine: I DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE!!! All my life you made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me. He loves me, Harold. He loves me. And that is worth everything. We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge! Goodbye, Harold.
(she starts to leave)
Zidler: You're dying Satine. You're dying.
Satine: Another trick Harold.
Zidler: No, my love. The doctor told us.
Satine: Marie? (Marie nods) I'm dying.
Satine backed up slowly, the soft step of her high heels muffled by the carpet. Her mind and heart raced with an unusually kind of respite, a strange emotion of despair her body had never toyed with before.
Her breathing grew quick and deep in pace. Unnoticed, Zidler twisted and departed with Marie, flipping his vibrant-red tailcoat and reaching with a gloved hand to softly close the door behind him. Satine kept her unwavering eyes to the ground, the sound of their footsteps rapidly blending with the sounds of production taking place all around. Her hands fidgeted with a loose seam on her kimono when a realization dawned upon her.
"They're lying," she cried out in frustration, angry at the thought of the Moulin Rouge being so selfish as to keep her encaged to satisfy the Duke's disgusting fantasies. "They've done it before and they'll do it again!"
Furious at the life she had lived and believed in her adult years, Satine swiftly dabbed her eyes and slinked back to her dressing table, where she continued placing only her valuable jewels and perfumes in various small traveling cases. She rummaged through her drawers, taking only a bare- minimum of clothing needed for survival. Finally, after filling her purse with francs and throwing on a fur coat, she took a final glance, grabbed her birdcage, and departed silently from the dressing room.
As sly as a fox, Satine slinked out of a back entrance, one that would be unguarded, and stole her way across the street to Christian's apartment. She ran through the downpour and began flailing up the stairs. Near his dorm, a chill flew through her body as her bags dropped, declining to the level below. A violent cough began to weaken her, as she collapsed on the stairs in a violent storm. Blood splattered her hand. She stared in revulsion at the rouge.
"No..." she yelled in stubbornness. "No, I am NOT!"
Continuing her way, she pulled her jacket, as if a dress performing a curtsy, and knocked firmly on Christian's door. The wood swung open, and they found each other unable to break their lips apart. Satine interrupted, "Wait...there is no...time...the Duke , Christian stop!"
Christian stared into her ocean eyes to see an alarming apprehension. He flew back into the room, leaving Satine standing at the doorway. Flinging on a trench coat, he grabbed at two cases and slammed the entry closed behind him. Signaling Satine to follow him, he ran down four flights, stopping only to quickly swing one of Satine's pouches on his shoulder and throwing the key to the apartment onto the streets.
Finally reaching the cobblestone streets, Satine held Christian by the arm to stop him from running.
"Wait," she cried out, fumbling with the birdcage to open the barbed wire. Putting her hand inside, she gently grabbed her parakeet and cupped it with both hands, placing a tender kiss on his feathered head before throwing it in the air. "Goodbye, my friend, be free!" she exclaimed with a smile, throwing the cage in the streets before running off to Christian.
Swiftly they fled, lovers hand in hand, creeping through the darkness and alleys.
"Christian," Satine breathed heavily. "I'm exhausted...I don't think-"
"No! It's only a bit farther, please, we're almost there!"
"I won't be able to..." she panted. Christian ran back and kissed her for encouragement before running up ahead, when all of a sudden he heard Satine scream. He turned in a flash to see her lying on the ground, cases scattered everywhere.
"What happened?" his hands reached behind her to aid in sustain to lift her off the street.
"One moment I'm standing, the next my leg gave away," she laughed. Christian lifted her up to a standing position.
"Can you walk?"
"I-I think." Satine took a step before falling into Christian's waiting bearing grasp. "...I can't."
"Oh oh oh," he cooed to her as if a baby, setting her down in a sitting position. In a flurry, Christian dropped both his bags on the wet rocks of Paris, whipped off his belt and slid the leather through the handle of his suitcase. Tying and slinging it as a pouch over his chest, he took Satine in his arms, whilst holding to his other case, and huffed to the train station.
"Wait!" Satine grabbed a purse and train case, placing them in her lap and wrapping her hands around his neck, staring at him lovingly all the while.
His legs felt about to buckle with aching as he finally placed Satine down at the station. A cramp of immeasurable pain had formed a stitch under his ribs. Christian consumed great pants of air, trying to fill his lungs and remove the soreness.
"Après," the salesman called to them from his booth. Satine balanced on one leg, hopping delicately with her purse in hand. "A où?"
"Quand est le train prochain part de Paris?" She began searching through her purse.
"Dans treize minutes à Belgique, et dix-sept minutes à Inde." He replied with no expression.
"Christian, is Belgium alright? It's the quickest one out of France and away from Paris."
"Let's just leave as soon as possible," was all the answer he could decide.
"Deux billets à la Belgique, rapidement, s'il vous plaît !" she declared. She flung francs through the glass and grabbed the two papers allowing them to escape.
"Christian..." Satine sounded slightly frantic.
"Oh, yes, sorry, love." He forced himself up and took Satine in his arms. "Your carriage is awaiting," Christian mocked. Satine laughed lovingly and kicked her heels in the air. Her eyes traveled from Christian's face to the station behind his back, until her eyes flung open in shock and her rosy cheeks turned deathly white when she saw...
"Christian, Christian, the duke...THE DUKE!"
"What? Where?"
"Behind you, behind you, and-and with his manservant...and ZIDLER! T-they're coming this way!"
Christian ducked behind a luggage trolley, struggling to stay balanced while carrying Satine and all their bags weighing him down. "What...station did...you say we were on," he grunted.
"Seven," she whispered too quickly, obviously showing her nervousness and fear. Christian turned his head to glance at the huge station clock, which read 4:09. God, that left them only six minutes to get to the train, he thought to himself.
"Listen...we only have...six minutes to escape," he panted out. Putting Satine down, he breathed easier. "Station seven is farther down and opposite of here we are, somehow, we have to cross down and over to it."
"Oh, you're so lovable when you're nervous," she giggled silently, which brought out a secret smile in him, turning his face a pale blush. "And why should I not be nervous? If we were caught, then what was to happen?"
"Come hell or high water nothing could matter, nothing could get in our way- "
"Because we love each other-"
"-And that's all that's important in this world!" Christian peeked up from their hiding spot to see all three men facing away from them, searching in various places and coaches. He pulled the trolley slowly, keeping him and Satine still hidden from view, while walking in a crouched position.
"Do you think it's too obvious, a luggage tray rolling by itself? Are we going too fast? No, speed up, Christian, we're too slow, we'll be caught!"
"...I'd like to see...you push...something immensely heavy...in a crouched... position...while...carrying... one hundred-fifty pounds of...weight."
"I'm not that heavy!" Satine gasped.
"The bags, dear, I'm talking about our bags." Satine sighed in relief at Christian's statement, who just sighed in annoyance. "Are they near?" Christian wheezed.
Satine looked up at the searchers. "Christian, they're coming this way!" she shrieked. Christian peeked through the cracks between suitcases, light casting shadows on his face, to see the Duke's manservant signaling to the other two men to follow him to where they were. Christian took a deep breath, looked at the clock, and stood up.
"Christian what are you doing?!" Satine panicked.
Ducking down, Christian sprinted to behind a vast pole. Behind it, he squeezed his eyes shut and made a whimpering sound, waiting for a yell of discovery to be made. But the only sound was a loud thumping that came from the ticket booth. Both risking a glance, they saw the Duke standing on the desk, hands reaching through the glass hole, and with a face of rage, strangling the ticket-salesman, whose tongue was hanging out limply. "Don't play poppycock with me, où sont-ils?"
"Monsier, monsier," the man squeaked with a croak, "Je ne sais pas qui vous êtes parlez de!" Everyone from all trains had their faces pressed to windows in their coaches, gaping at the scene. Zidler and his servant were both trying to pull him down. "Duke, my dear Duke, she did not have to have taken the train, she could have taken a boat, or still be hiding in this city!" A look of realization dawned on the Duke's face.
Stifling her laugh, Satine placed a gloved hand over her mouth. Christian took two steps forward, and entered the stifling train. The distant sound of a ticket master yelling could be heard through the train whistle blaring. He crinkled his eyes, adjusting to the dull glow of the light- fixtures above. Taking a step on the worn-red carpet, he opened the door to a coach, which had two people sleeping in it. The next one he checked was empty.
"This one, Christian," Satine asked. He shuffled himself and Satine into it. A lurch of the train sent him and her flying into the green leather seats. Toppled over each other in a dog pile, they both burst out in a fit of laughs and groans of pain, holding onto each other and sharing a passionate kiss before Satine began yelping.
Satine: You're wasting your time Harold.
Zidler: Poppet, you don't understand. The Duke is going to kill Christian.
Satine: What? No...
Zidler: The Duke is insanely jealous. Unless you do his ending and sleep with him tomorrow night, the Duke will have Christian killed.
Satine: He can't scare us!
Zidler: He's a powerful man. You know he can do it. What are you doing?
Satine: I DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE!!! All my life you made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me. He loves me, Harold. He loves me. And that is worth everything. We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge! Goodbye, Harold.
(she starts to leave)
Zidler: You're dying Satine. You're dying.
Satine: Another trick Harold.
Zidler: No, my love. The doctor told us.
Satine: Marie? (Marie nods) I'm dying.
Satine backed up slowly, the soft step of her high heels muffled by the carpet. Her mind and heart raced with an unusually kind of respite, a strange emotion of despair her body had never toyed with before.
Her breathing grew quick and deep in pace. Unnoticed, Zidler twisted and departed with Marie, flipping his vibrant-red tailcoat and reaching with a gloved hand to softly close the door behind him. Satine kept her unwavering eyes to the ground, the sound of their footsteps rapidly blending with the sounds of production taking place all around. Her hands fidgeted with a loose seam on her kimono when a realization dawned upon her.
"They're lying," she cried out in frustration, angry at the thought of the Moulin Rouge being so selfish as to keep her encaged to satisfy the Duke's disgusting fantasies. "They've done it before and they'll do it again!"
Furious at the life she had lived and believed in her adult years, Satine swiftly dabbed her eyes and slinked back to her dressing table, where she continued placing only her valuable jewels and perfumes in various small traveling cases. She rummaged through her drawers, taking only a bare- minimum of clothing needed for survival. Finally, after filling her purse with francs and throwing on a fur coat, she took a final glance, grabbed her birdcage, and departed silently from the dressing room.
As sly as a fox, Satine slinked out of a back entrance, one that would be unguarded, and stole her way across the street to Christian's apartment. She ran through the downpour and began flailing up the stairs. Near his dorm, a chill flew through her body as her bags dropped, declining to the level below. A violent cough began to weaken her, as she collapsed on the stairs in a violent storm. Blood splattered her hand. She stared in revulsion at the rouge.
"No..." she yelled in stubbornness. "No, I am NOT!"
Continuing her way, she pulled her jacket, as if a dress performing a curtsy, and knocked firmly on Christian's door. The wood swung open, and they found each other unable to break their lips apart. Satine interrupted, "Wait...there is no...time...the Duke , Christian stop!"
Christian stared into her ocean eyes to see an alarming apprehension. He flew back into the room, leaving Satine standing at the doorway. Flinging on a trench coat, he grabbed at two cases and slammed the entry closed behind him. Signaling Satine to follow him, he ran down four flights, stopping only to quickly swing one of Satine's pouches on his shoulder and throwing the key to the apartment onto the streets.
Finally reaching the cobblestone streets, Satine held Christian by the arm to stop him from running.
"Wait," she cried out, fumbling with the birdcage to open the barbed wire. Putting her hand inside, she gently grabbed her parakeet and cupped it with both hands, placing a tender kiss on his feathered head before throwing it in the air. "Goodbye, my friend, be free!" she exclaimed with a smile, throwing the cage in the streets before running off to Christian.
Swiftly they fled, lovers hand in hand, creeping through the darkness and alleys.
"Christian," Satine breathed heavily. "I'm exhausted...I don't think-"
"No! It's only a bit farther, please, we're almost there!"
"I won't be able to..." she panted. Christian ran back and kissed her for encouragement before running up ahead, when all of a sudden he heard Satine scream. He turned in a flash to see her lying on the ground, cases scattered everywhere.
"What happened?" his hands reached behind her to aid in sustain to lift her off the street.
"One moment I'm standing, the next my leg gave away," she laughed. Christian lifted her up to a standing position.
"Can you walk?"
"I-I think." Satine took a step before falling into Christian's waiting bearing grasp. "...I can't."
"Oh oh oh," he cooed to her as if a baby, setting her down in a sitting position. In a flurry, Christian dropped both his bags on the wet rocks of Paris, whipped off his belt and slid the leather through the handle of his suitcase. Tying and slinging it as a pouch over his chest, he took Satine in his arms, whilst holding to his other case, and huffed to the train station.
"Wait!" Satine grabbed a purse and train case, placing them in her lap and wrapping her hands around his neck, staring at him lovingly all the while.
His legs felt about to buckle with aching as he finally placed Satine down at the station. A cramp of immeasurable pain had formed a stitch under his ribs. Christian consumed great pants of air, trying to fill his lungs and remove the soreness.
"Après," the salesman called to them from his booth. Satine balanced on one leg, hopping delicately with her purse in hand. "A où?"
"Quand est le train prochain part de Paris?" She began searching through her purse.
"Dans treize minutes à Belgique, et dix-sept minutes à Inde." He replied with no expression.
"Christian, is Belgium alright? It's the quickest one out of France and away from Paris."
"Let's just leave as soon as possible," was all the answer he could decide.
"Deux billets à la Belgique, rapidement, s'il vous plaît !" she declared. She flung francs through the glass and grabbed the two papers allowing them to escape.
"Christian..." Satine sounded slightly frantic.
"Oh, yes, sorry, love." He forced himself up and took Satine in his arms. "Your carriage is awaiting," Christian mocked. Satine laughed lovingly and kicked her heels in the air. Her eyes traveled from Christian's face to the station behind his back, until her eyes flung open in shock and her rosy cheeks turned deathly white when she saw...
"Christian, Christian, the duke...THE DUKE!"
"What? Where?"
"Behind you, behind you, and-and with his manservant...and ZIDLER! T-they're coming this way!"
Christian ducked behind a luggage trolley, struggling to stay balanced while carrying Satine and all their bags weighing him down. "What...station did...you say we were on," he grunted.
"Seven," she whispered too quickly, obviously showing her nervousness and fear. Christian turned his head to glance at the huge station clock, which read 4:09. God, that left them only six minutes to get to the train, he thought to himself.
"Listen...we only have...six minutes to escape," he panted out. Putting Satine down, he breathed easier. "Station seven is farther down and opposite of here we are, somehow, we have to cross down and over to it."
"Oh, you're so lovable when you're nervous," she giggled silently, which brought out a secret smile in him, turning his face a pale blush. "And why should I not be nervous? If we were caught, then what was to happen?"
"Come hell or high water nothing could matter, nothing could get in our way- "
"Because we love each other-"
"-And that's all that's important in this world!" Christian peeked up from their hiding spot to see all three men facing away from them, searching in various places and coaches. He pulled the trolley slowly, keeping him and Satine still hidden from view, while walking in a crouched position.
"Do you think it's too obvious, a luggage tray rolling by itself? Are we going too fast? No, speed up, Christian, we're too slow, we'll be caught!"
"...I'd like to see...you push...something immensely heavy...in a crouched... position...while...carrying... one hundred-fifty pounds of...weight."
"I'm not that heavy!" Satine gasped.
"The bags, dear, I'm talking about our bags." Satine sighed in relief at Christian's statement, who just sighed in annoyance. "Are they near?" Christian wheezed.
Satine looked up at the searchers. "Christian, they're coming this way!" she shrieked. Christian peeked through the cracks between suitcases, light casting shadows on his face, to see the Duke's manservant signaling to the other two men to follow him to where they were. Christian took a deep breath, looked at the clock, and stood up.
"Christian what are you doing?!" Satine panicked.
Ducking down, Christian sprinted to behind a vast pole. Behind it, he squeezed his eyes shut and made a whimpering sound, waiting for a yell of discovery to be made. But the only sound was a loud thumping that came from the ticket booth. Both risking a glance, they saw the Duke standing on the desk, hands reaching through the glass hole, and with a face of rage, strangling the ticket-salesman, whose tongue was hanging out limply. "Don't play poppycock with me, où sont-ils?"
"Monsier, monsier," the man squeaked with a croak, "Je ne sais pas qui vous êtes parlez de!" Everyone from all trains had their faces pressed to windows in their coaches, gaping at the scene. Zidler and his servant were both trying to pull him down. "Duke, my dear Duke, she did not have to have taken the train, she could have taken a boat, or still be hiding in this city!" A look of realization dawned on the Duke's face.
Stifling her laugh, Satine placed a gloved hand over her mouth. Christian took two steps forward, and entered the stifling train. The distant sound of a ticket master yelling could be heard through the train whistle blaring. He crinkled his eyes, adjusting to the dull glow of the light- fixtures above. Taking a step on the worn-red carpet, he opened the door to a coach, which had two people sleeping in it. The next one he checked was empty.
"This one, Christian," Satine asked. He shuffled himself and Satine into it. A lurch of the train sent him and her flying into the green leather seats. Toppled over each other in a dog pile, they both burst out in a fit of laughs and groans of pain, holding onto each other and sharing a passionate kiss before Satine began yelping.